


Let Me

by GhostWriterGirl



Series: (You) and Me [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Bottom Liam, Bottom Louis, Bottom Zayn Malik, Divorce, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Slow Burn, Top Harry, Top Liam, Top Louis Tomlinson, Top Niall Horan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostWriterGirl/pseuds/GhostWriterGirl
Summary: I'm back, bitches. Welcome to the sequel.Most of this work will not make sense if you didn't read Rock Me. I recommend reading that first.





	1. Baby, That's The Truth

Chapter One

    Few things are better than falling in love. The realization that the person you're looking at...that one person who makes your heart skip a beat...THAT person is yours. Forever.

    Nothing beats it.


	2. Lost In The Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of flashbacks here. Giving a bit of insight to what the boys have gone through and how it affects them now.

Chapter Two: Lost In The Moment

**Harry’s POV**

    “Let's try it from the second verse. There’s an opportunity for a key change here that might be interesting.”

    I nod my head and take a breath. We've been at it for hours. It's the last song to come together on my debut solo album. And we've been stuck on it for weeks.

     "Harry?”

    I look up and see the keyboardist, Clare, looking at me with worried eyes. I straighten my jumper and rake my hands through my hair, nearly pouting when I’m reminded that it’s short.

    “I’m fine. We’re good. Ready to go again?” I ask, grabbing my mic. Clare doesn’t seem convinced but she also doesn’t push me on it.

    We run through the song again and I hear myself crack on the same note. Frustrated, I take my headphones off and throw them across the recording booth.

    There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence before a voice sounds over the intercom.

    “Arlight, everybody. Let’s call it for the day. Harry...come on back to the office when you’re ready, mate.”

    The instruction comes from Julian. Throughout the years, Julian Bunetta has been a lot of things. A lyricist. A composer. A producer. But more recently, a friend. I can see the frustration creasing his forehead. Sighing, I turn to the band.

    “Sorry, guys. My head’s not in it today,” I tell them. Mitch, our guitarist, wraps an arm around my shoulders.

    “I think it’s more than that. We’re not going to pry. Just remember that we’re here and we love you, Haz,” Mitch says. I smile and thank them, shuffling out of the recording booth before I get too choked up.

    The studio is nice. It’s a quiet space in London, tucked away inside a soundproofed anex. It’s not the fanciest of recording studios but it makes for a great story. I pull open the trap door and make my way on down the ladder. Around the corner and through another hidden door, Julian is lounging on a well-used leather couch.

    “Hey, mate,” Julian greets, handing me a beer. I take it with a smile and plop down next to him. I revel in the companionable silence for as long as possible. But I’m itching to talk.

    “How bad is the song?” I ask. Julian sighs and takes a long pull from his bottle. “That bad, huh?”

    “It’s not a bad song. It’s just not a good song for you. The song is actually quite good. One of the best you’ve written, if I’m honest. But there’s no way you’ll get through that song live. I can hear the cracks before you even hit the chorus. The emotion here...it’s solid stuff, H. But can you even imagine singing this song live? And not just live but to arenas full of thousands of people? Can you honestly say you’ll be able to do it?” Julian asks. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

 

_“Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do.”_

_The crowd screamed as the song came to a close. I lowered my microphone and headed towards backstage. I had three minutes and fourteen seconds until Liam and Niall would be done talking to the crowd and we'd launch into Steal My Girl. Three minutes and fourteen seconds to pull myself together._

_I leaned over, desperately trying to quell the tears that threatened to blow through my pseudo-tough exterior. My wedding band slipped out of my shirt, dangling on the silver chain that I refused to take off. The silver band rattled against the paper airplane charm - an ever constant reminder..._

 

    “It is what it is, Julian. I need this song to be on the album. It’s important to the story,” I tell him. Julian watches me carefully before sighing. He lets his head fall back onto the couch.

    “Fine. Then let’s figure out how to tweak this song so you can sing the whole thing without cracking or crying.”

 

**Louis’s POV**

    “Oooooh fuck. Don’t stop. Shit. Ugh...don’t stop.”

    I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Eleanor is good. Good enough to be a repeat booty call. But her voice during sex drives me crazy. Nevertheless, I put all my effort into thrusting my hips the way I know she likes. The sooner she finishes, the sooner I can.

    Minutes later, I feel her walls tighten around my cock. She moans and begs in a way that I’ll never find appealing.

    As soon as she’s done writhing around, which lets me honest...I’m good but I’m not THAT good...anyways, she finishes and I pull out.

    “Turn over,” I tell her. She gives me a disappointed look. “C’mon, flip over. You know this is how I like to finish. Don’t be difficult.”

    She flips her wavy hair over her shoulder and huffs as she turns onto her belly. I close my eyes and grab her hips. _It’ll never feel right. She’ll never feel right_.

    I pull her body close to mine and push my cock back inside her. With my eyes closed tightly and my bottom lip caught between my teeth, I picture the comforting head of brown curls. I picture the forest green eyes and smooth skin. The hard muscles and plush softness underneath my fingertips. My imagination works wonders. Before I know it, I feel the heat pooling in my belly.

    “I’m gonna cum again,” she whines, wiggling underneath me. I let go of one of her hips and force her chest down onto the bed. It doesn’t feel right. Her velvet walls are smooth and wet in a way that should be arousing. But it’s not. That, coupled with the high pitched sounds emanating from her throat, is enough to irritate me.

    “Shut the fuck up,” I spit out. I use the opportunity to reach forward just a little more and grab a fistful of her hair. _Maybe I can use the leverage and-_

    It’s wrong. The feeling is wrong. Her hair is silky smooth and not tangled at all. It’s too soft. Like artificially soft. And just like that, it’s gone.

    I lean away and look down at my erection. Or rather, lack thereof. I swear under my breath as I rip off the condom. It’s useless now.

    “Just leave it off. It’ll be fine. Might help you get off,” she offers. I shake my head, laughing to myself.

    “I wouldn’t change it for the world...but that’s exactly how I got me little lad,” I say, searching through the piles of clothes for my pants.

    “I’m on birth control,” she says, almost hopefully. I finally find my pants and pull them, followed by my jeans. I reach down and grab the condom, stuffing it inside the wrapper and pocketing it.

    “I believe you,” I say. I look and see she looks upset. “El, it’s not you. By now, you’ve got to know that it’s not you. You’re great. I’m just so broken, I can barely function.”

    Eleanor wiggles into her jeans and pulls a jumper on over her head. She hands me my shirt and sits on the bed. It’s strange to see someone else there - in my hotel room with me. I sit down next to her.

    “You’re not broken, Lou. Your marriage may be. But you’re not,” she says, trying to console me. Her slim fingers lace through mine. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Long before our management teams forced us into the PR relationship. The situation sucks. I know it does. But give yourself some credit.”

    “Where is there credit to give? I’m a fucking mess. My marriage has long past fallen apart. My closest friends are scattered all over the globe. My family is a mess after losing mum. I’m still stuck in this god-awful place of being controlled by assholes in ill-fitting suits. I’m stuck parading around in these little PR stunts and imagining someone else when I’m trying to get off. It’s all shit, El,” I tell her, emotion catching in my throat. To her credit, Eleanor doesn’t even flinch. She just squeezes my hand.

    “Listen to me. I know it’s shit. Alright? I know. I’ve been in it for years now. It’s shit. They bully you into things you hate and the only time you’re allowed to really be yourself is locked away in your flat. I’m not going to sugar coat it for you...this sucks. I might be your PR relationship but I do actually care about you. We’ve been doing this for years now. You are my friend, Lou,” she says gently. She leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry that life has dealt you such a shitty hand.”

    “No need for you to apologize. ‘S not your fault,” I mumble.

    “Doesn’t mean I can’t still feel bad,” Eleanor pouts. We sit there awhile longer, neither of us speaking. But eventually, she starts to yawn and I get hungry. So in typically post-fuck fashion, the slim brunette climbs into my lap and gives me a soft kiss. It’s delicate and sweet and honestly it’s impossible not to smile into it. Then it’s over and she slides out of my arms, collecting the rest of her things as she goes.

    The hotel room door clicks shut and-

 

     _“We've got two hours until we have to be back on the buses. Make it count,” Harry growled before the door even shut._

_“Harry! The door wasn't shut! One of these times, someone is going to hear you,” I scolded him. The curly headed boy wasn't phased. Instead, he reached down and scooped me up, pulling my legs around his body. I went easily. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself close to his chest. I felt his strong fingers knead my bum - teasing me the way he knew I liked._

_“You say that like I don't want the world to know,” Harry taunted. An aroused shiver ran down my spine. Harry noticed. “You like that, huh? The idea of the whole world knowing_ exactly _who you belong to?”_

_“Yes,” I whined as Harry's hands worked open the front of my jeans. “Please.”_

_“Love to hear you beg, baby.”_

 

    The door clicks. And I'm alone.

 

**Niall’s POV**

    “Oh fuck you, ya bloody wanker!” I shout at my telly, throwing a handful of popcorn at it just for good measure.

    “Hey aren’t leprechauns supposed to be all jolly and shit?” a voice mocks. I whip my head around and see none other than Liam James Payne striding into my living room.

    “Payno!”

    I launch myself off the couch and into his arms. “It’s about time you came round!”

    “I know, I know. You could’ve made the trip too, ya know,” he chuckles, fluffing up my hair with his hand. I bat him away.

    “Hardly. You’re busy being a dad and producing smashers left and right. _Strip That Down_ is a a solid track, mate,” I tell him. A faint blush spreads over his cheeks…

 

_“Niall,” Liam moaned breathily. I worked my hands down his back, massaging into his muscles._

_“You’re so tight, Li,” I whispered. Liam instantly went rigid underneath me. I chuckled softly, “Relax.”_

_“Then don’t talk like that,” Liam mumbled. His grumpy tone was choked by more moans as I pressed my thumbs into the base of his neck._

_“What? You don’t agree? Well if you’re not tight...then I guess you don’t need my hands on you,” I teased, backing away. Liam whined high in his throat and the sound went straight to my dick._

_“No, please don’t stop,” Liam begged._

_“Try flipping over,” I instructed, allowing him the space to do as I said. Liam wasted no time in shifting onto his back. Then, I straddled his pelvis._

_“Oh fuck,” Liam moaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. I smirked to myself, grabbed the massage oil and poured some onto his chest. The lean, muscled boy shivered under my touch. I spread the oil over his sun-kissed skin, letting my hands drift down to his abs._

_“Feel good?” I asked._

_“So good,” he whimpered. I slid my hands back up his chest, dragging my bum along his growing erection. Rosy heat blossomed on his cheeks, followed by his neck and chest._

_“You’re blushing,” I said, leaning down to brush my lips against his neck. Suddenly, Liam rolled us over and pushed me into the bed. His hips pushed forward -_

 

    “Ni?”

    Liam’s voice shakes me from the memory. I cough in an attempt to cover up my day dream and pull a pillow over my lap. The last thing I need is for my ex to see that I’m hard.

    “Yeah, sorry. I’m listening. Just tired,” I lie. Liam doesn’t appear to believe me but it doesn’t say so. “So is _Strip That Down_ still on track to go live in May?”

    “Yeah it is,” Liam says, rubbing at the back of his neck. Then he adds, “You’re one to talk ya know.”

    I cock my head to the side.

    “Talk about what?”

    “About me releasing a smasher. _This Town_ was fantastic. But...well _Slow Hands_ is something else. It’s gonna blow up when it hits the radio. Thank you...uhm...for sending it to me first.,” Liam says. He shifts from foot to foot like he’s uncomfortable.

    “No worries. And thanks, mate. Appreciate that.”

    There’s a beat of silence. And then there’s more silence. In fact, there’s a long stretch of odd silence. It’s not awkward. But it’s...heavy.

    Liam clears his throat.

    “I missed you. Ni...I missed you a lot.”

    I close my eyes and count to five before I respond.

    “Missed you too, Li,” I say. I lean forward and grab my beer from the coffee table. “I missed you too.”

 

**Zayn’s POV**

    I pull my shirt off over my head and roll my shoulders back, trying to ease the tension from my bones. Years of fatigue sticks to my body in a way I can’t seem to shake. Baba says I should go to therapy. But let’s be real...ink therapy is cheaper.

    The scent of sterilizer. The buzzing sounds. Stretching out in the chair. This is where I’m comfortable.

    The burn of the new ink settling just below my skin is a welcome distraction. _Maybe things aren’t so bad._

    “I dig this design, Zee,” the tattoo artist, Mac, tells me. Anger bubbles up at the use if the nickname.

    “My name is Zayn,” I tell him with as much civility as I can muster. Mac looks up from where he's just drawn a long, sloping line. A strange expression passes over his face.

    “Right. Sorry, man,” he apologizes. Intelligence him it's okay but the word still bounces around inside my head.

 

     _“Zee, come on! You've been sleeping all day!”_

_The shouting came from a very fluffy headed Doncaster boy either piercing blue eyes._

_“It's our day off. Let me have the day, will you?” I grumbled, pulling the duvet over my head. But Louis wasn't having it. He grabbed the duvet and ripped it off my body, exposing my favourite Batman briefs._

_“Oh look at you with your sexy pants,” Louis teases. Despite being my best mate, sometimes I really wondered if we could function without him. Surely we could cover the high notes- “Zee…”_

_Louis put on his best pout which, in all honesty, deserved and Academy Award._

_“Is Harry up yet?” I asked. Louis scoffed._

_“You honestly think I'd be waking you up if he hadn't already put your breakfast out in the nook?” Louis asked, feigning mock offense._

_“Man after my heart,” I smiled. Pleased with himself, Louis turned to climb back out of my bunk. But not before I grabbed him, hauling him into my bunk._

_Louis squawked, batting at my hands, “Unhand me you oaf!”_

_“Shhh,” I whispered, putting one of my hands over Louis's mouth. “Sh. Cuddles first.”_

_Suddenly, I felt something wet tickle my hand. I pulled my hand away to see Louis with his tongue hanging out. “Did you really lick my hand?”_

_“It's only fair. You tried to silence me. How dare you?” Louis demanded._

_“Sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive my transgressions,” I laughed. Louis scowled at me._

_“I don't appreciate your sass. But I do appreciate your ass. Especially when it's in Batman pants. You're forgiven.”_

 

**Harry’s POV**

_“When I run out of road,_

_You bring me home.”_

    The last notes ring out, bouncing off the small performance space. Acoustically, it’s amazing. Really, it is. But it’s too raw. The space is deep and dark and intimate in a way that makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable.

    “That’ll do, lad. That’ll do.”

    I look up and see Julian leaning against a seat four rows up from the stage. I lean my beloved acoustic up against the piano and hop down into the small pit. It’s hard to imagine a band - let alone an orchestra - playing on the tiny platform in front of the stage.

    “Did you hear the whole thing?” I ask. I grab my water bottle and take a long pull. Julian doesn’t need to know that it’s vodka.

    “I did. Was hiding up in the shadows. I seem to see and hear the best material when I’m invisible,” he chuckles. I swallow, mildly phased by the fact that the alcohol doesn’t even burn. “I think you can get through it live now.”

    “I think so too,” I tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think of the chapter? Feel free to comment and/or leave kudos!! ♡


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